Well, it had to happen sometime. We knew this day was coming, but none of us were prepared to lose Logan’s scrappy, nappy, raggedy Stankie Blankie.
Since he was a newborn, Logan slept with his soft blue blanket. It started out as light and lovely as springtime, pure baby-blue and soft as a cloud. Ash took Logan’s first real portrait snuggled in the pristine blanket, and I wrapped him in it tenderly each night. When Logan began to move on his own, he tugged the blanket after him. “Brankie” was one of his first words, and he adored his. Sleeping or awake, Logan could always be comforted by Blankie. We took it everywhere with us, and as Logan’s teeth came in Blankie became a chew toy. Soon all four corners were nibbled and frayed. It was permanently dirty, no matter how often we gave Blankie a bath in the washing machine — an agonizing hour for Logan, who always wanted to reclaim it soaking wet and had to be bribed to let it have a short spin in the dryer.
The months went by and Logan gnawed away at his blanket. His object of affection became grimy and worn, and the name “Stankie Blankie” was born and stuck (fortunately Logan never really understood the “Stankie” part). I tried to swap it for an identical new blanket, but after one taste Logan rejected the impostor. I bought three other perfect, new, spotless blue blankets, but none could replace the one true Blankie. No matter how battered, tattered and soiled, Blankie was always beloved. Logan captured the paradox of his delicious, disgusting blanket, calling it “yucky good.”
Over three years, this little scrap of cloth was dragged down stairwells, snagged on bushes, scraped over pavements, and flung out of the stroller. It was forgotten in shopping carts, restaurant booths, carnival rides, and an airplane. I can’t count the times I ran down the street frantically searching for it and found it lying untouched on a busy sidewalk. (My panic was unnecessary because, after all, who would want to pick it up?) No matter how many times we abandoned it, Blankie was always waiting for us, in the elevator, in a friend’s car, or in the hands of a kind cashier or librarian. I often rushed back to Lotus Bloom right after closing time, overjoyed when a teacher unlocked the door with a smile and handed it out. But I blushed with shame each time a good-hearted person had to touch Blankie. After three years of constant use and abuse, it looked more like a wash rag than a blanket. There’s no denying that Blankie had become an embarrassment, and a few months ago Ash and I agreed it was time to do something.
We started very slowly to wean Logan from his blanket by leaving it home when we ran short errands, but it was a half-hearted attempt. Logan still hung on tight at every opportunity and we all relied on it as a comforter and pacifier at Sunday School and Lotus Bloom. And Blankie was so absolutely necessary at bedtime that we never considered giving it up entirely. I just assumed Logan would be sleeping with it when he was fifteen.
Then one Friday we left Blankie at Lotus Bloom again and I didn’t realize until it was too late. Logan passed two miserable, inconsolable nights without his lovie, and I though we’d all lose our minds each time he moaned, “Where’s my Stankie Blankie?” We waited out that eternal weekend only to discover on Monday that no one at Lotus Bloom had seen it. I asked our neighbors and looked everywhere, but it had disappeared. I was shocked. Blankie had been lost many times, and it always reappeared. But this time I had to explain to Logan that Blankie wasn’t coming home.
I was dreading Logan’s continued distress, but a strange thing happened. On Monday night Logan fell asleep quickly and without fuss. For the next week he asked repeatedly for Blankie, but went about his business when it wasn’t forthcoming. He started to nap clutching a stuffed animal, and he spent more time snuggling with me, but mostly he learned to self-soothe.
About two weeks after The Disappearance, our neighbor Chikako unexpectedly showed up at our door with Blankie in a shopping bag. I was overjoyed — the ordeal was over! But Logan was doing so well without Blankie that I decided to keep it tucked away for bit longer, knowing it would be there in case of emergency. It’s been a few weeks now, and Logan asks about it from time to time, but so far we’re still Blankie-free.
It’s been a rough few months with several big losses — the gray car, the baby crib, and now the dear, dirty little blanket. The world Logan has always known is shifting seismically. We made it through the darkest days of missing Blankie, and now Logan’s grief is turning to acceptance. He is growing up quickly and showing us he’s more mature, independent, and resilient than we imagined. We all learned that lesson the hard way, but we’re grateful.